


Inner Monologue

by silkplants



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Tagging later, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 07:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkplants/pseuds/silkplants
Summary: America can read England's mind- as least temporarily. He's definitely interested in what England is thinking.





	Inner Monologue

America slunk in his seat as Germany yelled at him, groaning as he crossed his arms and lowered his head, mocking the other nation under his breath. It really wasn’t fair, he and England were both arguing, why was he always the one that got scolded? England should at least get that cold glare Germany always gave when he was especially upset. America puffed out his cheeks in a childish pout, looking to his right. England was sitting two seats over from his own, with France in between the two of them. He was always so defensive, and they often fought, yet he always sat nearby.

What was the fight even about this time? Oh, right. England had mentioned that his fairies were in the room, since the meeting was being hosted in the UK. America pointed out that it didn’t matter where the meeting was. They weren’t real anyways. That made England really mad.

In a lot of ways, America thought England was even more childish than he was. He always crossed his arms when he got upset, blinking quickly and looking at the floor as he used his foot to rock his chair back and forth. He was trying to distract himself, because he was upset enough to cry but his pride wouldn’t let him shed a tear in public. And he definitely wouldn’t cry if France was anywhere in the building.

America guessed he could tell a lot about England by looking at him, but, what he wouldn’t give to get into his head and see why he was always so on edge. Being a country came with a lot of stress, but England seemed to have more stress than most. Some of it was self-created, to be fair. Maybe if he’d chill out more than once a century, he’d be happier. Oh, well. It wasn’t his problem. Still, the stubborn, self sacrificial side of him wanted to help if he could.

America heard the flitting of wings, and then a few quiet, high pitched laughs. He felt something almost like powder settle on his head and nose, which made him sneeze. He looked around, straightening in his seat. America waved his hand near his ear, attempting to swat at the unknown annoyance. Then, England’s voice rang clear in his head.

‘Idiot. He’ll hurt the fairies!’

 

“I am not an idiot!” Alfred replied, loudly as he glared at England. The meeting room hushed, all staring at him. England blinked, tilting his head.

“I..didn’t say anything.” England answered, not especially angry. Just confused.

“America,” Germany cut in, giving an icy, disappointed look. “If you and England have yet another fight to work out, wait until after the meeting so the rest of us can go home.”

America groaned, adjusting Texas as he looked at England. England had stopped looking at him by this point, scribbling on his notepad. He was either taking notes or doodling, depended on whether or not he really cared.

'Honestly, I don’t know what Alfred’s problem is. If he doesn’t believe in mythical creatures, he could at least be quiet and leave me be. He used to be able to see them…science is great and all, but I do wish it hadn’t clouded his sight so much..’

America stared at England, furrowing his brows. He could hear him clear as day, but his lips weren’t moving, and he wasn’t turned towards anyone. He was still turned towards his notepad, staring down at it with a nondescript expression. 

'Hey!’ America thought, trying to get his attention. But England, if he heard anything, didn’t react to it. Alfred was something of a skeptic when it came to magic, but, it at least seemed like he’d gotten into England’s head somehow. He guessed he wouldn’t try to figure out why, especially when another nation’s private thoughts were just there for the eavesdropping.

'Honestly,’ England continued. 'I should tell him to go someplace else when he eventually asks to sleep over. I don’t even know why I put up with him, I mean, I don’t even know what I am to Alfred. Friend? Acquaintance? Casual hook-up is the most likely answer..but I never seem to say no to him. He’ll end up at my house. I know he will.’ America started to frown. One thing that was interesting was the fact that England thought of him using his human name, but it seemed he had pretty low expectations for him. As far as relationships went, anyway. Though, America guessed he hadn’t made a great case for himself. He had run out on him more than once, but, hey, he’d panicked. England was super moody, how was he supposed to know whether or not he wanted him to stay the morning?

He listened intently, and was met only with silence. He couldn’t hear England all the time, and America guessed he could only hear the thoughts that were about him. A few minutes passed before he heard England again.

'He looks nice today..wore his best suit. Perhaps because he was coming to my country? Ah, that’s silly. It was probably the only clean set of clothes. I should tell him he looks nice, but, he might think I’m being sarcastic. That would only make him mad on the ride to my house.’ England was right. It was the only clean set of clothes. He’d procrastinated doing any laundry again. Still, England thought he looked nice..

America’s cheeks warmed, and he smiled to himself, looking at England with a rare, soft expression. It was too bad England couldn’t seem to say what was in his head. Maybe if he did they’d be officially dating instead of whatever weird, undefinable relationship they had.

It went both ways, though. Last time he’d stayed with England, the older nation had made dessert, and it was actually pretty good. He’d meant to tell him so, but, he’d ended up making fun of it instead.

It’d made England so upset that he tossed out the few remaining tarts he made, and then forced Alfred to sleep on the couch. America wanted to blame England for his sore back the next morning, but deep down he knew he’d caused the problem.

'I wonder if Alfred would laugh at me if I told him how I felt about him.’ England’s thoughts intruded America’s memory, getting his attention. 'I’ve only ever told him I loved him while he was asleep. Would he stop coming to see me if he knew? I’ll..wait a while, yet. Maybe-’ The meeting was adjourned, and as England got up, America lost connection to his thoughts. But he had the information he needed. England loved him. No, not England. England was a place. It was Arthur that loved him. And Arthur thought of him as Alfred. Human names were very..intimate, at least for them. It separated their minds and bodies from their country, and to address someone by their human name or to tell them yours was a sign of trust. Arthur had told Alfred his while Alfred was young, and, Alfred had gotten stupid a while back and signed all his important documents with both names. Which indirectly told pretty much everyone his name.

As Arthur went to leave the room, Alfred shot to his feet, his papers fluttering to the floor. “Wait, Arthur!” He called after him, bending over and grabbing his papers by the fistful, recklessly crumpling them. There was almost definitely something important in there. Oh well. Too late now.

Arthur turned to him, surprised at hearing his lesser used name. The room was empty except for the two of them, everyone else had been in a hurry to get home.

“America?” He questioned, adjusting his tie. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Nah, not really.” Alfred smiled, walking up to him. He shoved his papers in his bag, and then took Arthur’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “But since I’m staying with you, I figured we should come up with a plan for dinner. Tell you what, if you make dinner, I’ll make us breakfast in the morning. How’s that?”

Arthur blinked at him. “You’re going to stay the morning? That’s..uncharacteristically sweet of you…Alfred.”

Alfred shrugged, and laughed, beaming. “Guess I just tried to think of things from your point of view.”


End file.
